As physical exploration of space, and particularly time, flounders; I struggle to perfect Astral Travel, the transfer of our non- physical self using deep meditation on the keyword OM.
Om: My eyes open. It is Earth, and here comes a man of the future, waving his arms and crying: Oh Tempora, O Mores, O Crikey! Wonderful, a latin speaker: he must be a scholar like myself.
"Excuse me Sir, is this the future?"
"Sorry mate," he replies."There's no future here!"
"What makes you so sure?"
"Well for starters, you've just materialised at the Roman Circus in Pompeii, and the crowd are out for blood. Chasing us are ten of the Emperor's fiercest, most sadistic gladiators. If we're lucky, he'll call them off and feed us to the lions instead. Who are you, anyway?"
"Professor Brion Damage, voyager in space and time."
"Well this is the past, you must have lost your way."
I shake my head. "Oh dear, it wouldn't be the first time."
"Well it might be your last, there's something else; see that big pointy mountain over there? Its called Vesuvius, and if you ask me it looks just about ready to..."
Om: As the volcano explodes in smoke and larva, I escape this carry on, back to the present. Trust me to land in a lions den. No wonder they call me King of the bungle.
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